Remorse
by Terrorking Tragedian
Summary: One day, Megan's usual evil prank went horribly wrong, and the cost was the life of her brother. Now all Megan feels is burning guilt, and the bitter taste of remorse. A one-chapter main story, with extensions behind.
1. Death

I've never written for Drake and Josh before, and I'm not sure if this show still popular; it won the Kid's Choice award though. Regardless, I went ahead to write this story. I had actually planned for a little more than a year – since I first watched the show. I slept on it; I dreamt about it, my fingers itched to write it. So I don't care if nobody's reading this! I love Drake and Josh! And I love drama just as much!

(Is there anyone who thinks that Megan really deserves to have something bad happen to her? What with doing all those bad things to people all the time?)

Disclaimer: I never got the chance to touch the property papers of Drake and Josh. So there.

* * *

It was supposed to be a simple prank. Just a simple, normal prank.

Fine, it wasn't simple, and it wasn't exactly innocent either, but it meant no serious harm. I just wanted to rattle him. It wasn't supposed to backfire.

But it did.

And now, before my eyes, lay the body of my beloved brother. Lying on the floor, motionless, still, lifeless.

My mind was completely numb. I collapsed on my knees in shock. _It can't have gone wrong! It can't have! _I kept thinking. _It simply can't! I'm an evil genius!_

I gingerly crawled through the debris towards the motionless body lying on the littered floor, vaguely aware that I too was covered with dust and burns. The deep red gash on my arm burned terribly, and something warm and sticky trickled down the length of my arm from it, slowly. I was shaking violently and uncontrollably; simply moving sapped me of every ounce of strength I had left, for my body simply did not want to cooperate. Time seemed to slow down – or was it speeding up? I did not know. Neither did I care. All I cared about was getting to the charred and bloodied body seven paces in front of me.

Time seemed to stop, in fact. The deathly silence was overwhelming. I could here my own ragged breathing, and thunderous heartbeat. Very slowly, still on all fours, I shifted myself forward. A nail dug into and scratched my bare knee, but I felt no pain. I kept going. I persisted, pulling myself forward inch by inch, until I could feel the hem of his shirt sleeve at the tips of my fingers. With vehement strength, I clenched my fist around the fabric and hoisted myself into a position such that I was kneeling beside and looking over the body. The body of my elder brother, no less.

"Drake," I whispered, voice quavering in fear. "Drake, wake up." As I spoke, I shook him gently, hoping upon hope he would wake.

He did not wake.

A brick slid down my throat into the pit of my stomach. My heartbeat accelerated, pumping dread through my veins like venom. Drake did not wake up. _Oh, no..._

"Drake," I said again, this time barely suppressing a sob, and more desperate. "Drake, wake up! Drake? Drake?"

Still he did not wake. Not even a flutter of an eye. Not even a sigh of life. Nothing.

I began to cry.

"Drake! Drake! Please, wake up! Drake!" I wailed, shaking him more vigorously, tears bursting the dams and pouring down my cheeks without stop. "Drake! No, Drake! Wake up! Wake up!"

Nothing. No movement. Total silence.

"Oh no, Drake! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! Please, wake up already! I'm sorry!"

Nothing still.

"D-d-don't leave me like th-this! I'm s-sorry Drake! Drake? DRAKE?!"

Then I heard a sound. A most dreadful sound, one that instantly struck terror in my heart. It was the death rattle, the horrible gurgling sound at the back of my brother's throat. In the silence of the house, it was amplified and made even more terrible. The echoes of death rebounded off the walls, confirming his hour of death as well as the permanence of my guilt. Drake was a goner. I knew it despite my denial.

"NO! NO! D-DON'T DIE! DON'T DIE!! I L-LOVE YOU!!"

Those last three words vibrated through the air, cutting across through the eerie silence like a jet of hope. And yet, when it came back from the walls, it became twisted, like the sinister voice of Fate. It taunted me. It mocked me. Why would I, who loved my brother, kill him?

_Kill him...kill him...Did I just kill him? _The true severity of my crime crashed upon my shoulders with the force of a falling anvil. It dawned on me at last – I murdered my brother.

A great tumult of emotions tore through me, threatening to rip me apart. Coldness slipped down my neck and tore at my lungs. Crying openly, completely speechless, I could only placate the unspeakably excruciating pain and guilt by futilely and weakly shaking the corpse before me. The gashes on my arm and knee suddenly sent a stabbing pain down the entire limbs.

Did Drake hear my apology? Was this all a joke, a counter-prank, just to get back at me? If it was, it taught me a lesson good and proper. _Come on! I'm only a nine-year-old girl! I'm not even able to earn money for myself, let alone kill someone! This has to be a dream. That's right, this is a dream. I'll just pinch myself and the next second, I'm going to be in bed, screaming and crying but unharmed..._

And the door swung wide open. Josh came in. I realized that this was no dream. Any fantasies, hopes, even surreal wishes that it was went out of the window within a second. I stared at Josh with a mixture of fright, horror and apprehension, as he beheld the sight of a charred corpse lying in a pool of blood and covered with dust and bits of debris. I, too, was going to die. For my sin. For the sin of killing my beloved brother.

My poor, sweet, precious, irreplaceable elder brother...

"**WHAT DID YOU DO?!"** Josh bellowed. His voice was suddenly far more terrifying than I have ever heard from him, and an almost evil look of pure rage took over his facial features like a twisted, tortured mask.

_What did you do...What have I done...What did I do...I know what I did...I did it..._

_AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!_

I screamed.

And then I broke down and embraced my elder brother, wrapping my arms around him, never ever wanting to let go. All mental faculties, all vestiges of composure and sanity fled from my grief-stricken mind. All I knew then was pain, guilt, self-hatred, despair. I wanted to join him. I deserved to join him. In fact, I should take his place; he will live, and I will suffer the death I truly deserve. I abused our blood relation. I abused our sibling ties. I abused his love – that which is not obvious, but always present and taken for granted. I took him and his love for granted. How could I? Not even Josh could ever be as close to me as Drake. He was my biological brother, the sibling I grew up with.

I screamed, hard. It was a scream filled with every single emotion I could possibly feel at that moment. I tore at my hair. I held on to the body like a snake would its prey, unwilling to let go. I cried blood when all tears were used up. I went deaf; I could no longer hear anything other than the sound of my own pathetic voice.

"Megan! Let go! Let go of him! We're gonna take him to the hospital!"

"NO! NO! DRAKE! I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY! COME BACK! COME BACK!!"

"It's no use, Megan! Let go, now!"

" DRAKE! I LOVE YOU! I'M SORRY!! I'M SORRY! WAKE UP PLEASE!!"

"LOOK! WHY DON'T YOU TRY TO HELP INSTEAD OF WHINING LIKE A USELESS IDIOT?!"

"COME BACK, DRAKE! COME BACK! I'M SORRY! I'M SO SORRY!!"

"_**MEGAN!!"**_

"**NOOOOO!! NO! NO! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!"**

No one could pry me away from my brother. Definitely not Josh. It took six men to finally pull me away from Drake and subdue me. I struggled like crazy to fight these evil medics, for taking my brother away from me. I fought them, I wanted to kill them, those evil men...

_Are they any bit as evil as yourself? Who killed Drake, Megan?_

"H-hey! Wait! I think the girl's in shock!" a man was yelling.

"Subdue her, and let's get her to hospital too! Quickly, before she hurts herself!" another man shouted.

"Hold still, Megan! Hold still!" And I felt Josh's hands gripping my arms like claws of a crab, wrestling me down and keeping my hands away from my hair and anything I could hit. I screamed myself hoarse, until pain tore my throat asunder, and it literally bled afresh. I needed to be with Drake; why didn't any of those morons see that? I should be there beside him!

Then a needle pierced my arm. The pain of the needle hardly registered in my brain, what with all the excruciating fires already incinerating my insides like wildfire. But the drug quickly took effect, and a new force began to subdue me, this one far stronger than six men. I could no longer struggle. I surrendered at last. Better to let darkness take me, than live on in guilt and sorrow.

And I'll finally join Drake...

The darkness came. It was welcoming...almost inviting. It soothed the pain...

I closed my eyes, and went limp. Somewhere above me, Josh was sobbing; all of the sudden, I could hear him...

Then silence and darkness swamped me completely, descending upon me like a shroud. My last whisper before death was infinitesimal, imperceptible.

"Forgive me, Drake. Forgive me. I...love...you..."

--

I didn't know how old Megan was, although at some time, they mentioned she was eleven-years-old. So I estimated that the age of Megan in this story would be about nine. I was thinking of the very young Miranda Cosgrove, by the way; as she was in Season one.

I'll be expecting some flames from Miranda fans right about now. Yes, I love Miranda too, but I really hate the character (Megan) that she plays, and it's high time she got punished. Still, if anyone has problems with visualizing a suffering Miranda Cosgrove (Megan), feel free to vent – indeed, I deserve it. (Repeat: I love Miranda too.)

Should I continue? Or should this be a one-shot? I'm still undecided, but nevertheless, I am satisfied about the fact that after a year's planning, this is finally off my chest. (By the way, if it made you cry, tell me. I love to hear these things.) _Amuse-toi bien! Merci! :)_

Terrorking Tragedian


	2. Extension 1: An Eternity of Waiting

Due to a few requests, I am going to continue. Motivated mostly by my dislike of Megan, I think. Or maybe because I want to placate my own desire to punish and torture innocent people for giving me so much pain even when it's not their fault...Megan isn't so innocent anyway, so my sadistic tendencies are justified.

Like Over the Edge (another story of mine), the story ends in the first chapter. This is merely a continuation, and I won't count this as part of the main story. So that means if you don't like this continuation, just read the first chapter and be happy about it. For starters, Megan is going to be awake at the start of this chapter, at the hospital. I know she wasn't in the previous one, so if you really need to connect the two chapters, simply imagine Megan woke up after the sedative wore off, and she's now sitting and waiting. (Continuity isn't an issue to me.)

(Tomisaqt, are you there?)

Disclaimer: The usual...don't own anything...blah blah blah...

* * *

She was crying.

She was crying hard.

She was crying without stop, her face buried in her hands, her tiny body racked with endless chokes and sobs.

The little sinner, the irony folly of a genius, the stupid fool. The little damned rat knew she stood no chance of being redeemed. Her crime was too great, too heavy, and the sentence shall match it in severity.

What punishment possibly awaited her? There was the superficial: the abandonment of her family, the harsh beatings she deserved so much, the shunning of the society. Then there was the real punishment: eternal damnation to the agony of guilt, the vengeance of her dead brother, not to mention being barred from the gates of Heaven. She did not deserve His love and mercy; even the most High God cannot free her of her guilt until her brother forgave her first. But wherever he went after the accident, it was clear Drake would never return again. Not for his family, not for Megan.

She would never know if she was ever forgiven.

She cried some more.

He wouldn't forgive her, she knew it.

She would be damned forever, her innocence destroyed by the simple but fateful act. Her innocence, the protective cover that granted her clemency until later in life, when all her sins would be charged to her, and she would accept them without denial, if regretfully and reluctantly. The innocence was gone. And taking its place was vice. Her once-young and innocent heart, gripped by crushing pain, would henceforth be and remain tainted. A dreadful sentence, it was, to be cursed like this for the rest of her life.

And she was only nine years old.

She cried even harder.

Sorry for Drake? Or more likely sorry for herself? Sorry that she ever decided to pull THAT particular prank on that day...rather, ever pull that prank on anyone. It was all the prank's fault, not hers! It backfired, and it shouldn't have! It chose to disobey!

_But who's idea was it to invent that one and pull it on Drake?_

It was hers, of course. Megan's.

She cried harder yet. Until all her tears were used up, and blood took its place. Until her throat gave out, and all breath expired, and she simply cried soundlessly.

Nothing in the world meant anything to her anymore. She died with Drake, as she deserved. The Atonement for her sin.

"Josh! What happened...?"

Her mother would never forgive her for murdering her own flesh-and-blood son, the eldest son, the brother of her daughter. Megan's conviction felt stronger than ever when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw her mother and stepfather rushing hurriedly down the hallway, with terror on their faces, and fear in their wake. The wait outside the emergency room already lasted an eternity, and now her parents too would join in the period of waiting, no doubt having ample chance to punish Megan to death...

"It was Megan's fault! This is all Megan's fault! Why won't you believe me?!"

"Impossible, Josh! You mean to tell me an innocent nine-year-old girl can..."

"IT"S TRUE! IT HAPPENED!! I tell you, this time you gotta believe me!"

"Josh...I...don't...know what to..."

"Megan isn't as innocent as you think she is! She's been pretending all these years, and you never found out! Well, now she can't anything!"

"Josh, calm down..."

"NO! Look, I'll prove it..."

Megan looked up from her hands, and saw for the first time, true horror on the pale face of her mother. The sight drove yet another stake through her broken heart. And she noticed, too, that her mother was in a state of utter shock, unable to believe that her sweet innocent daughter, whose façade has never been busted until now, has done something so terrible, so dreadful, that it was nightmarishly impossible. Josh's face, however, was a contorted, twisted mask of demonic rage, far more fearsome than his normal appearance which Megan has gotten used to. He let his fury fly, and Megan, the convict that she was, took it with acceptance and apprehension.

"OUT WITH IT, MEGAN!! WHAT DID YOU DO?!" Josh roared. Spit drops landed on Megan's tear-soaked face, but for a second there they burned like acid. Megan flinched, yelped and backed away from him.

"C'MON, YOU STUPID WHELP! WHAT DID YOU DO?!" he repeated, louder than before, taking a menacing step forward. Megan's lip began to quiver again, and her fragile little frame started shaking uncontrollably as she cowered while the beast advanced.

"Josh!" cried Walter. "Calm down! There's no need to shout; the situation is bad enough already!"

"But she did it! She..."

"Shut up, Josh! Let her speak for herself!"

"YES! LET HER SPEAK!!"

Megan let out a loud sob that could be heard over the shouting match. Josh and his father were silenced immediately, and saw properly for the first time, how vulnerable Megan truly looked. How fragile her true self was, when the hard façade of 'evil' has been stripped down to reveal a cowering helpless little wretch, with rivers of tears flowing ceaselessly down her cheeks. At that point, Josh felt ashamed. It was shame that brought him the sudden revelation that Megan's guilt was eating her insides up as much as his anger and grief was devouring him. And suddenly he realized what she was feeling, and how he should be feeling, and how he should be acting. Just as much as she felt that she did not deserve to live, Josh did not deserve the title of 'big brother'.

For a brief moment, Josh's eyes met with Megan's own watery chestnut-eyes. His face burning, Josh tore his gaze from his sister, shut up, and walked away.

Megan began sobbing hard again. Had she caused her brother that much pain, too?

"I'll go with Josh, honey. You stay...?"

"I'll stay with Megan, Walter. Thanks."

Audrey's heart broke to see her beloved daughter in such distress. She sat down beside the little girl, put an arm around her, and pulled her close to her chest. Megan flinched and for a split second made an involuntary movement, as if trying to break free of her mother's embrace. Then she buried her head into Audrey's chest, and cried freely.

"Did you do it?" Audrey whispered gently, stroking Megan's hair with her free hand.

Megan choked and, unable to speak through her tears, nodded dumbly.

"Oh, my baby..."

Audrey held her daughter tight and rocked forward and back, quietly coaxing her to stop crying, like a mother would do to her crying baby. They sat in silence for another twenty minutes, during which the silence was punctuated with soft whispers, gasps and sobs, and an occasional loud sniff.

"I'm s-sorry, mom," Megan finally managed to say, her high-pitched voice cracked and squeaking. "I'm s-so sorry..."

"It's okay, baby," her mother said, still stroking Megan's pitch-black hair.

"I didn't mean t-to," Megan wailed, shaking. "I didn't...I...Drake..."

"Ssh. Hush, baby, hush."

"I'm sorry..."

"I don't blame you, baby girl. Hush now, hush."

Audrey stayed stoic and strong for her broken daughter, but her heart too ached with grief for her son. Whatever Megan did to him, she needn't know. It was all unimportant, for the mother refused to blame her daughter for the death of her own son. Even though she never knew Megan was capable of being the 'demon' and 'evil genius' her brothers always complained about, even though the truth about her daughter was concealed for so long, even if the 'crime' was, indeed, to have killed her own flesh-and-blood son. No matter what, the girl deserved no conviction.

But she knew her daughter better now, the mother thought. All the lies, deception, the mask of sadistic evil, and really what was behind it all along; true love for her brothers, and repentance. She was weak and vulnerable without her shield, as helpless as any little girl overwhelmed by the consequences of her own actions.

"I don't blame you," Audrey kept repeating soothingly. "I don't blame you. Hush. Mommy's here to protect you."

Eventually Megan quietened down, and with peace restored in her heart, fell asleep in her mother's arms.

There was silence for another eternity...

BOOM.

In the stillness of the air, the door slamming open had the same volume of a cannon shot. Audrey jumped, and Megan jerked wide awake, alarmed by the sudden noise. The door to the emergency room was open, and a doctor clad in green surgical gown stood in the doorway, a triumphant look on his pale face.

Megan and her mother stared expectantly, nerves tingling with a mixture of terror and desperation.

"We saved him. He's alive."

* * *

I'm being nice to Megan now, am I? Ruddy hypocrite. But I love writing deep emotional family get-togethers, and here I want to express Megan's true inner self when she isn't busy being an evil little girl. Sounds corny in various places though, but there you go...

(For my wonderful reviewers.)

Terrorking Tragedian


	3. Reconciliation

This is a strictly a spiritual and tear-jerking chapter (story, actually), so if you're looking for a box of tissues right now, then bless you. I shall do my best to make it a masterpiece. This chapter was stuck in development hell for quite some time. The first part, quite frankly, conceived out of a dream. The second was...the result of hours of slaving over my computer. (I need a life...)

Disclaimers: the usual...the usual...

* * *

Reconciliation

Megan tossed and turned endlessly on her bed that night, wrought with worry and anxiousness. It was already three hours past midnight, yet every part of her body seemed to conspire against her and a good night's sleep. Her eyes never wanted to stay shut for more than two seconds, and every time she thought, with dread, about the next morning, her heartbeat accelerated and ever so loudly. The longer she lay in bed, the more frustrated she became, the tighter the knot in her guts got. Her legs were tingling nervously to get up and move; in fact, Megan did not _want_ to stay in bed.

She glanced at the clock on the wall. _3:45 am. I had enough. I'm getting up._

She pushed away the heavy quilt and got out of her bed, without a jot of tiredness. There was nothing she could do that felt meaningful at such a late hour; unwilling to go back to bed, she paced up and down her room with a finger in her mouth, to release some of the great anxiety bubbling in the pit of her stomach.

_What if Drake doesn't make it? But the doctors did say he was going to be alright, right?_

_How will he look like? Will it be horrible? Will I recognize him...even?_

_He hates me, he must hate me...how will he react when he sees me? Maybe he might forgive me? I'm his little sister, after all..._

_What if the doctors are wrong...and he's dead?_

Megan kept pacing. Unbeknownst to her, teardrops were gently trickling down her pale cheeks. She could not let her brother go; she could not let him go, even though they were miles apart. She should be staying beside him. There she was, in the comfort of her bedroom, surrounded by a certain atmosphere of security even in these times, while Drake was alone in unfamiliar territory, the hospital, to spend the night there on his own.

_No, he will not be alone. I will be with him._

With a great sweep of her arm, Megan pushed aside the curtains, revealing the picturesque view of the night outside the window. The penumbral moon cast its shine on her, it seemed...almost like a beckon, a smile. Perhaps the celestial body knew what she wanted to do, and would help her accomplish it with its mysterious power. Megan hastily wiped away the wetness in her eyes and gazed upon the Moon, allowing her eyes to absorb all the luminance of the ethereal orb of light.

Then its heavenly powers went to work. It drew her in; Megan's unfaltering gaze was fixated upon it, and no muscle in the girl's body moved to release her from the mysterious alluring grip of the celestial body. Megan knew that the Moon was more than the usual ball of light in the sky at that time; it was the face of some higher power, the holiest Highest Power, gazing upon her with love and warmth. Putting all her trust in it, she told the High Above her wish.

_I want to be with Drake._

It smiled back; she saw not the smile, but felt it, knew it. There was a voice from beyond, high in the heavens, speaking through the rays of moonlight. It told her to go back to bed, go to sleep. It had taken care of her wish; the wish has been granted, if only she went to sleep. It would take care of her. All that was needed to do was done.

_Go to bed, Megan._

Megan obeyed the instruction, and without hesitation, without looking back at the Moon, slipped back into her bedcovers, and closed her eyes. Her mind was at peace at last, surrounded by the new feeling of reassurance and security. She was protected, her pain was soothed. Drake too, though miles away, was protected.

_Amen._

In no time at all, Megan slipped into the world of dreams.

And, oh, what a beautiful, picturesque place it was! Vast fields of red, gold and blue bathed in brilliant but heatless sunlight. Beds of roses, tulips, sunflowers and violets stretching for miles and miles, even stepping beyond the horizon! And the great ball of light above, the most Glorious of all, smiling down on all below! It was like a beautiful cloudless summer day, one which Megan had never seen – she simply stood and stared, stupefied by the scene. The air was warm, with a warm, pleasant and feather-light breeze fanning her face in tiny gusts, speaking in whispers into her ears...

Megan blinked. All of the sudden she was lying down on the bed of sunflowers. The bed was surprisingly warm and the perfect cushion, what a lovely bed, Megan thought...

She blinked again. Someone was lying down beside her. She looked to her right.

Drake was lying beside her, his face shining, his smile radiant as the sun above. He beamed at her, and Megan beamed back. All enmity between them was gone, and there was only love and warmth. There was no hatred, no disgust, no war, no pain, as if nothing bad had ever happened between them. It was a moment of purity as the two siblings returned to their former states of childhood innocence.

The accident that left Drake in the hospital never happened, not in this beautiful world...

Megan crawled into Drake's arms, and locked in the loving embrace, they lay there for another eternity, joyfully smiling and laughing along with the sunflowers at the Glorious Sun. The beautiful Light beamed with satisfaction, happy with its work. A truce was made signed between the two – the siblings were no longer at war; in fact, this wonderful relationship never experienced war...they were blissfully unaware of any conflict that ever happened between them. For the Light had removed their memories of the conflict, for them to reflect on their fraternal love, their true selves...their long-lost but never-gone innocence.

Megan and Drake knew nothing about it. They simply lay there in their embrace, staring into the cloudless skies. Drake kissed his little sister on the head, and Megan shut her eyes, wanting nothing but the feeling of love and warmth to persist and linger. She wanted the dream to never ever end. She knew that, though locked up in the cold dark hospital ward, Drake was sharing her dream, a wonderful dream, one created by the Lord in Heaven just for them to learn to love each other again...

* * *

Megan's heart was pumping hard. The door downstairs just closed with a click.

Drake came home.

Terror replaced the nervousness, tearing right down her lungs and piercing her stomach. Megan felt her heart throwing itself against her ribcage with unchecked force. She placed her hand over her chest, over the hammering little thing, and pressed hard. Every breath of air caught in her throat, and burned like icy fire. Fear made her quake from head to toe, as she leaned against the door to her room, one ear pressed to the wood, listening to the sounds coming downstairs, waiting in bated breath.

"Megan, we're back!"

Megan gasped involuntarily out of surprise. The dreadful moment, one which wishes for delay and procrastination could not prevent, had come. She hoped for it, she wanted it to come sooner, yet the sheer terror of seeing Drake again after the incident made her pray desperately that this moment would never come.

Not never, at least, but later. And later, and later still.

But it had to come. It was _inevitable_.

Drake had to return home. And so he did, and so it was.

Terrible images ran across her mind's eye for a long moment: the sight of the new transformed Drake, his rage which was vindictive and vengeful, even violent, and Megan crying and begging for forgiveness, crouching in her small corner…

The nine-year-old could take the stress no more. She slid down and sat on the floor, her back to the door, her knees hugged tightly to her chest. Guilt and conviction ravaged the frail little body for the past week, but only upon Drake's return did the terror peak.

The little girl was pale, paler than she was normally, far paler than any healthy person. Her eyes became perpetually watery and puffy, yet she was not weepy for the last three days; her eyes had simply run out of tears. The skinny little frame became even more so skinnier, or so it looked. Overall, Megan took on the appearance of a really ill, stressed-out, and almost literally dying person.

"Honey, don't you want to come down and say hi to Drake?" her mother called from the hallway. The sound of her voice travelled up the stairway and rang too clearly for Megan to pretend she had not heard it.

For a heart-stopping five seconds, Megan struggled to find her voice.

"I-I'm b-busy right now, mom!" she finally managed to stutter, but still clearly enough to let the reply carry downstairs.

Then there was a third voice, a deeper male one. It said something inaudible, but a moment later, Megan heard her mother yell upstairs again, "That's okay, honey! You can come down later!"

Was that Drake? Megan thought worriedly. Had he heard her, too? Did he know, and understand her fear, and gracefully allowed her some time to conquer it before they met?

Perhaps Drake isn't as much a boob as I thought, Megan thought. But she still couldn't bring herself to face him. She could not even get up from her position on the floor. She daren't move.

Maybe later. And later, and later still.

And so she waited. She waited an hour.

Finally, after the soul-crushing stress of an hour's wait, she could take the inaction no more. Her love for her brother was far greater than the fear of facing his wrath. Before her mind had another chance to hesitate, she jumped up onto her feet, wrenched the door open, and dashed down the stairs like a bullet.

Then she saw him, and she stopped dead in her tracks.

Drake was on the couch, covered in bandages, plasters and other indicators of horrible physical damage. He looked a lot worse than she had imagined. Yet the smile and joy on his face was evident, as he languidly sat back on the couch and stared into the blaring television screen, the remote control on his free hand. Josh was with him, and he was talking, but Megan couldn't hear. Fear still rang in her ears.

Were this a normal occasion, she would saunter over and smack Drake's face full-on with a pie. Then she would giggle and retreat while he reeled in shock. Megan pictured it in her head, and wondered if she could do just that, in order to get closer to him. But she had not the nerve. What he wanted was an apology, and that was what she must look like; the image of pathetic apology.

The tumult of conflicting emotions threatened to tear her apart from the insides. If she were to live, she would have to act now…

Steeling herself for come-what-may, Megan summoned up her voice once more.

"Drake…?"

It was a small whisper, for she had failed to get the full cooperation of her voice and mind. But it was loud enough to silence the two young men. They turned their heads and stared in surprise at Megan for a dumbstruck moment. Megan's insides were squirming and squeaking. Part of her wanted to escape, to take off and dart back to the relative safety of her room. But her legs remained rooted to the ground.

Josh looked at her, then looked back at Drake, and muttered, "I'm going to give you guys a little time alone." Then he flashed his stepsister a little smile of encouragement, and hastily marched upstairs to his room. Megan could feel herself flinch when his arm lightly brushed against hers when he walked past.

With obvious effort, Megan lifted her foot of the floor, and inched her way towards Drake on the couch. She took a wild look around, and caught a glimpse of the living room. The plates on the table were definitely touched and moved; Drake had dug in to his favourite foods on those dishes, painstakingly prepared by his penitent sister. The television was blaring, but it made no noise, for it was muted. Drake gave her a smile and a gesture of invitation. There was no one else in the living room but the two.

Drake gazed upon his sister and the image alone invoked deep protective feelings and pity within him. The girl, far too young for the sheer pressure she was subjected to for a long, grueling week, too little and immature to suffer an adult's worth of pain, stood shivering before him. Her shoulders were hunched, hands hidden behind her back. Her head was down, and she was looking up at him with a set of the saddest eyes he had ever seen. At that moment, Drake remembered all that his mother told him; about how very sorry Megan was.

He held no grudge, no ill will against her. Hatred would serve only to hurt, and he needed no such thing in his heart as he recovered. The girl had been punished enough by her own emotions; there was no need to inflict further damage to her spirit and their relationship. Now was the time for mercy, and healing.

Megan isn't just really sorry, Drake observed. She's basically derelict.

Megan dropped her gaze to the floor and mumbled, "I'm sorry, Drake."

Drake smiled encouragingly, unsure whether anything he did would relieve his sister of the anxiety. "I know," he replied simply.

Megan opened her mouth and tried to begin a sentence, but could not find the words. She lingered in silence for a terribly tense second, then stammered incoherently.

Drake kept smiling.

"How're you feeling?" Megan said finally, still staring at her shoes.

"Oh, you know…fine." Drake said.

There was an awkward silence. Drake kept the smile plastered on his face.

With trepidation, Megan took a tiny step forward and began to inspect every single inch of Drake's body. The sight of him close-up seemed even more terrible than the view at a distance. And the fact that she caused him to suffer these injuries only conjured up those feelings of conviction yet again. Drake saw a teardrop descend from Megan's eye and become a tiny wet spot on the floor. It was the first teardrop in days.

Drake tried to break the ice, and clear the air. "C'mon, sit down, Megs," he invited cheerfully, motioning at the seat on the couch next to him. With a little hesitation, Megan sat down, and stared at him, transfixed with horror. But the use of the girl's nickname successfully removed the tension from the atmosphere, for Megan melted into a stammering sob.

"Hey, don't cry," Drake said gently. He had never ever seen his sister cry.

"I-I…I'm just so s-sorry! I didn't m-m-mean to…it just…it was an accident! I didn't…" Megan ranted desperately.

"Whoa, Megan, calm down! You didn't mean it to…"

"No! NO! I shouldn't have done it! I'm so stupid!"

"You're not stupid!"

I hurt you! I nearly killed you! I…"

Her outpour ceased abruptly, as if she was struck dumb by the last words she had uttered. Unable to breathe or talk, she hung in mid-sentence for two seconds, then dropped her face into her hands. A second tear leaked out of her eye and made its way to earth. Drake freed his arm and pulled her towards him. Megan yelped and flinched in fright; for a wild moment, she believed Drake was about to strike her. Mustering all his strength, Drake pulled Megan into a tight embrace, risking the stitches on his body be pulled apart. Megan was still incredibly uneasy.

"Do you hate me?" she asked nervously. Drake felt her shaking in his arms. He looked kindly at his sister. "No," he said.

"You're not mad at me?"

"I forgive you, Megan."

"Y-you do?" Megan stuttered in utter disbelief, yet at the same time, the huge pressure weighing her shoulders and chest down was lifted. She felt relief like a sudden ray of light, of hope.

Drake kissed his sister on the forehead. "Yes," he whispered.

Megan gasped, sighed, then burst into tears. She soaked his chest with warm salty tears, but Drake did not mind. The teardrops would heal his wounds faster than any doctor's medicine.

* * *

* * *

There was no need to put the old chestnut "I love you, X" line to end the chapter, don't you think? I am content with this ending. So all's fine, apparently, Drake didn't kill Megan, and Megan didn't kill herself. Their fraternal relationship is repaired, so…all is good. The Moon in the first bit obviously refers to the Lord God. My personal favourite bit is when Drake kisses Megan on the head. It's like "Aw! How sweet!"

Now, don't think this story is ended! For I have one last chapter to write. A tragic end, an unhappy ending; the story shall be finished to befit my name! Await one more chapter, an alternate, tragic ending!

Terrorking Tragedian


End file.
